If I kept a pistol or a tire iron in my desk, I would execute my computer, gangland style, right now for the failure of either it or our lame software to save the blog post I just spent 45 minutes writing.
And my apologies to you loyal readers, but I am not going to rewrite it. It’s nearly 9:30 p.m. on Friday night, and I’ve already had enough fun on my penultimate day of the work week — especially because the post was sort of wrenching to compose, given that it dealt with the 37th anniversary of my dad’s death on June 30, 1975.
I am spent.
Enjoy your Saturday, and again, my apologies for the lost and unreplaced prose. I’ll try to do better tomorrow.